Fill The World With You
by XxTwistedEverAfterxX
Summary: The 1920s was never flappers and jazz for Tommy. Winter was never a hot cup of chocolate and a crackling fireplace, but frozen benches and forced awakenings almost hourly to make sure he didn't freeze to death. The last thing he expected was to find a small glimmer of mercy, and much less for it to be offered by a white hand. Veggie Burgers Fluff.


**Hello! For those of you that don't follow me on Tumblr, there's been quite an absence of my fics on here, and for that, I'm very sorry! I have been writing, quite a lot actually, but I've been posting all my fics on my Tumblr account and neglecting this one a little! I'm very sorry! If you would like to read more of my fics when I post them, rather than me forgetting to re-upload them here, definitely go check out my Tumblr which is on my profile for you! If you like this fic, Like and Reblog it on Tumblr as well~! All my fics are organised by pairing in the 'Fic Master Collection' link on my blog! Big smooches, and sorry for the delay in fics!**

**This fic was a prompt from Tumblr when I was taking requests. If you would like to submit a prompt for me to fill, I do open requests at random times on my Tumblr, so go check them out there, as not all prompts will be uploaded to my Fanfiction account!**

**1920s AU with rich upper class Alfred and beggar chimney sweeper Tommy awaits below! I love reading and writing the 1920s, but people tend to leave out the nasty side and chalk it up to flappers and jazz, but it was a pretty bad time, and I tried to capture some of that in here, so it is a little bit sad, but does have a happy ending! Do keep in mind what the 1920s was actually like prior to, and during, reading this fic please! Enjoy! Smooch smooch!**

_**CAUTION: There is a use of racial slurs in this story, and while they are there, this does ****not mean that it is okay to use them, but it feels like pretending it never happened in history is a form of erasure. Do not forget this happened, and remember that it is wrong!**_

* * *

><p>"<em>Fuck<em>."

Tommy sniffled a little, lifting a dirtied hand to rub at his runny nose, his face crinkling at the itchiness and ticklish sensation before dropping his hand back to his arms, grasping at his biceps with a shiver. It was cold.

The air was growing crisper by the day, and in the evenings, the temperature plummeted so violently that it was like the seasons had switched within the space of a few hours, and Tommy found himself wondering when the weather would ease up, even a little bit, and show him mercy. That alone was unlikely, given that the leaves had already all turned marigold and ruby and had begun to fall from their respective trees. Eventually, they would be bare and peppered with thin blankets of snow that would thicken the deeper into December and January it became.

Watching tiredly as people passed, the American forced a grin onto his face despite his heavy exhaustion and slid the flat cap he wore from his head and held it out before him, stepping forward again.

"Evenin' fine sirs 'n' ladies, if ya got a minute, maybe we can have a chat," he spoke up, stepping deeper into the busy walkway, the park behind him flooded with crowds pouring into the main shopping district, "Got a business goin' on, dime at'a most, lookin' to serve ya, give ya a smile."

Watching as people walked on by without interest, Tommy flickered his tongue along the gap in the left of his upper line of teeth where one was missing, hunching his shoulders a little, attempting to seem smaller, less intimidating, as he approached the well dressed men that were passing.

"Shine your shoes? Ain't gonna take long, I'm a quick hand, I am, 'n' I'll make 'em glitter so ya can see your handsome face in 'em," he continued, turning his gaze to other people as they passed, approaching them cautiously, "Got a chimney? I'll sweep it for little, take the soot right out, unclog your livin' room 'n' all."

Nothing. Not a single response or expression of interest.

Glancing back to his possessions nearby at the gate of the park, he returned to them slowly to allow the crowd to refill the gap he'd been standing in and give him more of a chance at picking up a customer, his expression down trodden and surly whilst he adjusted the brushes and bristles on some of his chimney cleaning gear. A bit of soot fluttered down from the bristles, causing him to sniffle and sneeze again, his stomach growling in echo. He was getting hungry, and it was getting colder. His clothes were wearing thin, and his fingerless gloves already had holes in the palms, his shoes starting to flap at the toes like they had mouths. He needed money desperately before the winter came.

Pushing on his smile again, rubbing at some of the filth from his cheek with the back of his hand, he held his cap out again, turning and walking towards the crowd that parted for him like the ocean had for Moses.

"Got a penny to spare? I'll work for it if ya need. I'm a quick hand at shoe shinin', chimney sweepin', 'n' I'm great with any hard work ya got. I can paint the ol' cracks up in the home, or walk the dogs; just a bit of cash is all I ask," he continued, shoulders slumping as men, women and children all walked around him, leaving a gaping circular personal bubble surrounding him, as though he carried a plague.

Watching them pass with a miserable and gruff gaze through hooded dark brown-red eyes, Tommy grasped his cap tighter by the brim, tilting his head back to look to the sky as it began to change colours from blue to a soft pink-purple with the sun setting, heaving a breath that fogged before his full, chapped lips. Maybe he'd try a different location tomorrow? Maybe they were too used to him begging for food, money, and work here by Central Park? Once again returning to his items, he stuck his hat back on his head, toying with the straps of the worn bag before he heaved it up onto his back, tongue once more messing with the gap between his teeth.

At least it wasn't raining that day. That was something he could be grateful for… One out of the few things he had to keep his chin up about, if that could be counted at all.

There were too many clean suits and too many fine dresses around him, a stark contrast to himself, all of them rushing to nowhere fast to avoid all of nothing that couldn't go wrong; a mockery to his suffering with their urgency for _wants_ while he was left struggling to account for his _needs_. Jealousy and envy were dirty and ugly emotions, but it probably sat well on his lapel with the other filth and grime there. It couldn't be helped, really. What else was he meant to feel for all those with clean white faces who bulged at the bellies? He'd be damned if he felt happy for them; he wasn't that selfless. He never would be, really.

Watching stranger after stranger passing, he began to muse if perhaps, that night, dinner would be skipped after all. That would make it the third night in a row that he was going to sleep hungry. At the very least, he could try and find an unoccupied park bench to sleep on, or an empty alley, or even the doorway of a building closed for business for the day so he could get settled and comfortable and sleep.

"Hey! Hey, you!"

Lifting his head up, Tommy glanced about, searching for the origin of the shouting, naturally curious as to who was shouting to whom. It took only a second for him to register that a man was running towards him, half barrelling into other people, dressed in a fine suit, one hand curled into a fist, and bright blue eyes behind rectangular framed glasses locked on him.

Taking a step back, Tommy felt his gut clench as people moved aside, seeming to be only mildly irritated by the blond, who was possibly in his early twenties, that was making a beeline straight for him. They parted for him as well, much like they had done for Tommy, but less because they were disgusted by this man's existence, but more because they seemed quite eager to see the collision point, eyes turning to follow the southern accented American as his heavy steps crashed against the pavement towards the darker skinned American who stood with furrowed brows, alert eyes, a tense posture, and a firm grasp on his bag of chimney sweeping brushes.

Tommy half expected the sunshine blond haired man to either pass him at the last second—an attempt to spook him or agitate him into action to retaliate—or shoulder him just so he could threaten to knock more of his teeth out; nobody would argue the clean man. They would probably cheer him on, help hold Tommy down while fists were pounded into his body. It wouldn't be the first time, and it wouldn't be the last, but that didn't mean that he had to be placid and take the punishment for a crime he hadn't committed.

Yet at the last second when the stranger neared, the hand that wasn't curled into a tight fist struck forward with an open palm, and with a single swipe, Tommy's hat was gone from his head. Instinctively, he made a grab for it with a grunt of frustration and slight distress, straightening to try and yank it back from the man who was taller than him, because of all things, he couldn't afford for his cap to be stolen!

"There you go!"

Confused, Tommy found the cap in his hands once more, fingers pressed to curl around the brim as the fabric at the centre jerked with the small _clinks_ of metal that landed inside, weighing it down to dip and jingle.

"Is that enough for a shoe shining?"

The stranger had spoken again, and it was only now that Tommy's eyes darted up to properly look at the man and take the time to drink in his appearance. Bright blue eyes stared back at him, large and wide open, framed with dark blond lashes like rays of sunlight that brought attention to the most beautiful colour irises that put even the clearest of skies to shame. A smile powered by the sun beamed at him, wide and showing off rows of white teeth against a clean white face, coloured ever so slightly by the kisses of the sunlight to make it a light golden colour—nothing compared to his own light chocolate coloured skin, but it certainly wasn't a pasty milk colour.

Finely dressed, youthful, and probably sprouting daisies out of his rear—Tommy was near certain of this fact—this perfect all American pinup boy was now, for some reason, standing before him and looking much too delighted with himself, cheeks flushed a soft pink and breaths falling heavy from slightly parted rose coloured lips that refused to budge from the smile he wore.

Well, until Tommy didn't answer his question, and his smile fell to a pout instead.

"Ain't that enough?" he pressed, head tilting to the side like some curious golden retriever, tossing another coin into the cap from his clenched fist with a _ting_, rattling the rest in there, "Two quarters is alright for a shining, right?"

_Two quarters_?

Snapping at last back to reality, Tommy's gaze dropped down to his flat cap, hooded eyes widening at the collection of bronze and silver that glittered back up at him. Keeping hold of the cap with one hand, he brought it closer to his body, protective, the other hand fingering through the coins, counting slowly, uncertainly, until he simply came to the conclusion that there had to be fifty cents weighing his cap down. A whole _fifty cents_!

"Bless ya, sir, bless your kind heart," he choked out, looking up to the relieved stranger, the smile blooming on his sunshine bright face again, "Only costs a nickel for a shoe shinin', don't gotta pay so much. I'll do my best; make 'em glitter all pretty like for ya. I'll do whatever ya need me to for the two quarters."

The blond laughed, waving his hand to dismiss the words, his fisted hand shoving back into his pocket, a few more coins clinking into the thick tan coloured pants as his fingers uncurled. The clenched hand hadn't been coming to punch him, but had been holding money instead.

"Just a shoe shining, that's all!" the man assured, holding his leather gloved hand out, "My name's Alfred, so don't go calling me 'sir', okay?"

Eyeing the hand warily, Tommy looked up to Alfred, his lips pinching to the side before he grasped his cap with both hands again, keeping them occupied.

"Ya don't wanna go shakin' my hand; 's dirty, y'know," Tommy murmured, licking his lips and smacking them, turning his head to the entrance of Central Park, scanning for nearby places to sit, "There's places to sit in the park, probably, but I can't guarantee they'll be too clean for ya."

"Bit of dirt never hurt a good man," Alfred chirped, hand still hovering in the air, "On both accounts! I don't mind where I sit, or shaking your hand! It's polite to do so with a stranger, after all!"

Tommy glanced back to Alfred, an eyebrow raised in confusion, scooping the coins out of his cap to stuff them into his pocket, keeping his hand buried there to protect them and placed his cap back onto his head with the other.

"Ain't ya gotten a good look at me?"

Alfred's head gave that same charmingly curious tilt of the head, blue eyes raking up and down the shorter man's figure, giving a soft hum in thought, and Tommy sighed, clicking his tongue, eyes ducking to the pavement.

"I'm half nigger."

Alfred recoiled at the word, tensing and going rigid before he hushed Tommy immediately, looking visibly distressed.

"Hey, don't go saying that," he urged, stepping closer, though Tommy took an instinctive step backwards, "That's such a filthy word, don't say that about yourself. You're coloured, er, half coloured, okay, cool, just—wow, don't say that word."

Raising an eyebrow, Tommy chanced a look up to Alfred, seeing him looking unsure of himself, hands hovering mid air and palms out as though trying to halt the words from tumbling past full lips again.

"You're white though… Y'can say it, 'cause it's what I am."

"Y-Yeah, but, that's a horrible way to say it, so don't… Please?" Alfred pleaded, patting Tommy's shoulder, making red-brown eyes dart down in startled confusion, the blond offering a smile at the clear loss in Tommy's expression, "Come on… You're just like me, y'know? We're good, okay? I don't… Y'know… I don't care about…"

Vaguely, Alfred gestured between their faces, his smile creeping back on, hopeful.

"Take the skin away, we've both got muscles and bones and organs on the inside… Besides, I wouldn't have picked up that you're a half cast man—straight nose like me, and… um… That, okay, that came out sounding rude, I'm sorry…"

Tommy found himself giving a lopsided smile, eyes lazily at half mast, watching as Alfred seemed to work himself into a little panic, tripping over his own words and attempts at apologies.

"Don't sweat it, Golden Boy… It don't make me mad. Nah… Say what ya like about me, you've given me a lot o' money just now for a simple shoe shinin' and you've been mighty kind, so I don't care what ya say 'bout my face or skin or nothin' like that," Tommy said easily, pulling his hands from his pockets to rub them together firmly for warmth, the sky darkening to a deep mauve, "I'm just beggin' for somethin' to eat right 'bout now. Scraps is all I want, so anythin' is good for me. We'll figure out what I can do for ya; a shoe shine, give ya a shave, trim your hair—even draw ya a life sketch, I can, just say the word."

"A life sketch?" Alfred asked, eyes lighting up, the lamps beginning to flicker around them as the fuses within the posts sparked to turn them on, "You can draw?"

"Anythin' ya want," Tommy confirmed, turning his body and leading Alfred towards the park, the American following quite happily, pulling his coat a little tighter around him as a chill breeze swept past them, his hot breaths fogging up like thick smoke.

"Maybe, if you're willing, I'll pay a little extra for some more stuff," Alfred mused, cheeks a nice rosy dark pink colour, bright blue eyes glancing about the darkening and emptying park for space.

It really was Tommy's lucky day, even if he'd been snubbed from morning to night. Fifty cents could get him a decent meal for the night and the following day too for sure—he'd be able to eat every meal for the next few days. Ten cents would buy him a good pound of bread, and then he could buy a pound of beans for eleven cents, some cheese as he needed it and maybe even splurge and buy a fresh apple or two. He was beyond thrilled. But now, with the offer to give him _more_ money for extra services, Tommy was quite overwhelmed and elated.

"You don't mind if we find a bench not quite out in the open, do you?" Alfred asked, glancing about, sliding his hands back into his pockets, coins jingling around as he fiddled with them with his gloved fingers, "Just… we won't be in anyone's way, is all."

Casting a glance to him, Tommy's eyebrows knitted a little, caution and uneasiness bubbling in his gut, tongue messing with the gap in his teeth again—a nervous habit—before he shrugged and gave a half hearted nod.

"Yeah, I mean… Suppose that's fine."

It was a matter of assured safety, for the both of them; Tommy knew that in a crowd, people were less likely to act violent against him, and in a crowd, he had some defence and back up if the blond decided to claim he had tried to rob him or attack him. So many people would believe the white man over the half coloured homeless beggar. With the jittery behaviour Alfred was displaying, the way he constantly had his bright blue eyes darting about, and the way he nibbled at his bottom lip, it had Tommy suspicious. He didn't want to be killed, or beaten, or framed for any crime he didn't and _wouldn't_ commit, or need to defend any attack that came. Yet he was hungry enough to lead Alfred into the park in the hopes of an extra dime. He was cold enough that even a single penny more was still a penny closer to a new pair of gloves, or a thick jacket, or a pair of shoes, or an umbrella for when it rained or snowed or hailed and he was caught without adequate shelter.

"There's one!" Alfred chirped after a few minutes of a disconcerting and awkward silence between them, his hand lifting to point behind some bushes at a spare bench that was unoccupied, "That's fine, right?"

"Yeah… Nice 'n' tucked away, huh?" Tommy croaked out, his smile more of a grimace as Alfred half-jogged towards it, sliding in behind hedges to the little bench made for men and their wives when they wanted to rest and talk in private beneath whichever tree would blossom come the spring time. With its leaves almost all gone, it was hard to tell.

Alfred was the first to settle down on the bench, his cheeks insistently pink, though it was harder to see in the darkening twilight, the nearest lamp flickering through the hedges as it sparked to life, casting only specks of visibility and shadows through the foliage.

"Okay, so… This is my first time shoe shining, um, well, _getting_ a shoe shining, so…"

"Lemme do all the work, don't ya go worryin' your li'l blond head o'er that, Sunshine," Tommy said with a little grin, shrugging his bag from his shoulders and placing it on the ground by their feet, going through one of the smaller pockets and plucking out a tin of black polish, a sponge, a half dirtied cloth, and a mini-towel, setting them all in his lap as he crouched and picked up Alfred's foot, setting it on his thigh, giving a deep sniff before he set to work with the towel, rubbing at the top of the shoe, "Pretty shifty, y'know? This tucked away place; kinda dangerous for a man like you, sir."

"Alfred. I'm not 'sir', I'm Alfred," he corrected, hands tense and curled on his thighs, watching curiously, "Didn't realise it wasn't safe. I thought it was fine."

Tommy scoffed, making sure the dirt was cleared away so that the tiny grains wouldn't scratch along the surface when he polished it, tucking the towel into the hem of his shirt, unscrewing the lid to the black lacquer and dipped the sponge into it.

"I could do whatever I wanted to ya here, 'n' nobody would come fast enough to save ya. Nobody would see, and I'd get away with whatever I wanted, Golden Boy."

"R-Really?"

Tommy lifted his gaze up, unsure how to interpret the expression being made above him, frowning slightly, though his hand never slowed in the perfectly refined rubbing of shine to shoe.

"Would you?" Alfred asked, slightly breathless, voice wobbling, sounding far too eager to be truly afraid, though unnameable with the vocabulary that Tommy sported. Nervous? Uncertain? Hopeful? It was hard to pinpoint.

"Not unless I was paid, but even I've got limits, y'know. Like, I ain't gonna let myself be framed for no crime," he replied, gaze dropping back down to the shoe, only to find crumpled paper shoved into his line of vision, frowning at it, his hand halting its motions, "What's this?"

"Five dollars."

"Yeah, I know that," Tommy grit out, shooting a frown briefly to Alfred before his gaze fell back down to the money, "But what's it for? You're not some gangster or nothin', huh?"

"No, no, nothing like that," Alfred replied softly, licking his lips, "Just a boy riding on daddy's coattails."

"Rich white kid… Alright, so that explains why ya got the cash, but here's the question," Tommy sighed, leaning on his knee as he looked up at Alfred, raising an eyebrow at him, "Why are ya givin' it to me?"

"You—You could do anything to me, right? Nobody would know, right?" Alfred insisted, still holding out the five bills in his gloved hand, "Nobody needs to find out, right?"

"The heck is ya payin' me for, kid?"

"A kiss."

Well, that certainly came out of left wing, and left Tommy utterly baffled, eyebrows shooting up towards his hairline, lips parted and left staring at the expression of mild panic on Alfred's face, unsure whether the shake of the bills was from the faint breeze in the air, or Alfred's trembling fingers.

"A kiss?" Tommy repeated, his eyes trailing from the money to Alfred's face, "You're gonna pay for a kiss from a nigger? What, 'n' have the KKK come after me from down south?"

"Stop saying that," Alfred pleaded, "I hate that word, and I hate _them_! I—Look, I'm sorry, I just… I can't explain myself, but I genuinely don't see anything wrong with you. You're attractive, and I—I don't wanna be lynched either, okay?"

_Lynched_?

"You're a homosexual?" Tommy breathed, only to be shushed urgently, Alfred glancing about, though nothing but shadows danced about them with the flickers of the light through the shifting leaves, not even an animal or cricket breaking the silence.

"It's wrong, I know, I need to go to church more, I'm really sick. _I know_. But, I just—just one kiss before I admit myself to be fixed and confess to the pastor. I just… I just wanted to have my first kiss, and nobody would—"

"Nobody would believe a nigger, even against the word of a homosexual, so ya figured you're safe tryin' to pay me," Tommy cut off, tilting his head in echo of how Alfred had done earlier.

"That's not it, and I'm serious, _stop_ saying that word. Your skin is a gorgeous colour and I only wish I looked that delicious naturally, but I look like average mildly-toasted bread and you look like the finest chocolate from Belgium," Alfred snapped softly, lips tugged into a frown downwards, "So either take my money, or shine my shoes and forget I said it."

Heavy silence settled between them, and Tommy looked impressed. Flattered wasn't a word he'd use in this situation, given that even though his skin colour had been complimented—weirdly so—he'd then immediately after been told to take the money and perform the 'service', or ignore the money and leave the request be. _Five dollars_, in the end, was a lot of money, and would certainly pay for a nice quality pair of shoes that would last a long time, and maybe even a pair of new thick gloves as well. Anything leftover, along with the other two quarters he'd received for the simple shoe shining, could be spent on food, in which case.

Mentally cursing, Tommy slapped the lid back on the tin of polish, placing it and the sponge down carefully, snatching up the cash and crumpled it in his pocket, pushing himself up to sit on the bench beside Alfred, sliding a muscled arm around the finely dressed American whose frown had vanished to be replaced with a look of definite nerves and surprise. The money being taken had been a silent acceptance of the request.

Gently, Tommy's other hand came up to brush his thumb over the rise of Alfred's cheek, radiating heat and most likely blushing darkly in the darkness that hid it well. His eyes fell to Alfred's lips, pursed tightly and being chewed on from the inside, worried hard between white teeth.

"Relax," Tommy whispered, licking his own lips to dampen them, leaning in slowly, "Let it happen naturally… Or, as naturally as we can do this, given I'm prostitutin' my lips for you."

"Don't say that," Alfred complained, bright blue eyes darting between Tommy's lips and his uniquely coloured eyes, "What's your name?"

"Proper name is Thomas, but don't call me that—Tommy's what I go by."

"Tommy," Alfred breathed, and the addressed felt shivers race down his spine and goose bumps rise to his skin, "You agreed pretty quick to this. Do you like men too?"

"Depends on the guy. A Golden Boy like yourself though, makes me weak in the knees, don't it?" he said with a soft chuckle, thumb dragging down over cheeks, finely shaven and soft, "Got no qualms bein' 'tween the legs of a woman or a man."

"You're so lewd," Alfred replied, swallowing thickly, licking his lips several times between deep breaths, eyes now shying away from Tommy's face, "So you're experienced at kissing?"

"I'm better when we got some jazz behind us in a speakeasy 'n' there's a couch to press ya against," Tommy said softly, the arm around Alfred tugging him closer while the one against his face curled under the straight jaw line, tracing it, dragging out a visible shudder from Alfred, "When smoky haze makes it look like a dream, baby doll, 'n' ya feel all the more sensitive from it."

Leaning in slowly, Tommy watched as Alfred's eyelids fluttered shut, squeezing sight from his mind rather than his eyes, his breaths coming in a little quicker. He'd clearly never kissed or been kissed before, and it was almost adorable to see, drawing a husky chuckle from deep in his chest that rumbled between them in the silence of the fallen night, the air chilling the tips of their noses.

"Are ya picturin' it? Lyin' beneath me 'n' lettin' me taste ya over… and over… and _over_."

"_Please_."

Softly, ever so tenderly, Tommy cupped Alfred's cheek with his broad palm, calloused and rough from all the physical labour, leaning in and tilting his head, his cap lifting up by the brim as it bumped Alfred's forehead, their noses touching first; Alfred's straight and narrow, and Tommy's broken in at the bridge and pressed in slightly, the tiniest hook disrupting the otherwise straight line.

"Easy does it, just do whatever your body wants; it's all good."

Easing in the rest of the way, their lips touched timidly and softly, nothing more than a brush, though even that made Alfred's breath hitch, eyebrows knitting upwards and hands jerking up from his lap, clenched in fists mid-air between them. Tommy pressed in more after the brief moment of pause, moulding their lips together a little more firmly, thumb stroking along Alfred's sideburns and finely cut short blond hair. Hesitantly, Alfred's hands came forward, cupping Tommy's neck uncertainly, lips shifting to try and kiss back, parting when his jaw was eased open, jerking stiffly at the sensation of a cool wet tongue sliding over the seam of his lips and teasing at the inside of the lower lip before withdrawing, leaving him trembling.

"Still wanna kiss me?"

"God, yes."

"You're a golden boy of sunshine, y'know that?" Tommy chuckled, leaning back a little bit, studying the other's expression for signs of discomfort.

"I was worried I wasn't gonna make it to you on time—ran straight from the bank… I'd been meaning to pay you to do something but, well, couldn't figure out what," Alfred confessed with a soft and uncertain laugh, making Tommy lean back and grin in amusement.

"Really?"

"I wanted to help you out, but, it would have been weird if I'd just given you the money and walked off, so I—"

"So ya paid at least ten times the amount most folk pay for a shoe shinin'."

"I find you really attractive," Alfred confessed softly, his hands smoothing from Tommy's neck and down his chest over his lapel, brushing at the thinned fabric, "Nothing wrong with the colour of your skin—it's the colour that drew me to you. It's… It's really nice."

Smiling, Tommy felt his heart flutter at the kind words—kind and genuine and so honest it made him ache just a little bit.

"Ain't nobody said that to me before, not even my own momma," he whispered, sliding his hand through Alfred's hair, combing it back as Alfred reached up, removing the flat cap from his brown-red and oily hair, "You're nothin' but sunshine, ain't ya, darlin'?"

"You deserve it… You deserve more than… than this." Alfred made a gesture to Tommy's clothes, then cast a glance to the set of chimney sweeping brushes. "People have been dying from the soot. I don't want you to be another number in a statistic. I see more for you. For all of the United States of America. I want to help, one step at a time. That's why I came to New York."

"Was gonna ask what a southern belle is doin' all the way up here with an accent like that," Tommy teased, sniggering at the dirty look given to him, brushing it away with another press of lips, "I dunno what to say to ya."

"Just… Just keep kissing me," Alfred spoke, swallowing hard as his fingers gripped lightly at the hair between them, "And meet me again tomorrow. We'll find you a nice coat to keep you warm."

"Golden Boy… If there's one thing the world needs more of, it's men like yourself. Bless ya."

Alfred smiled, the same thousand watt smile from earlier, his heart thundering in his chest and against his ribcage like a powerful drumbeat, bright sky blue eyes fluttering shut as Tommy pressed another kiss to his lips, and another, and then another as he pulled Alfred closer, his hands ending up sliding under the man's jacket for warmth, thawing out his fingers and likely leaving dirty fingerprints along the shirt beneath in his wake, though the sunshine blond didn't argue or complain.

All he did was promise a brighter future for them through their kisses, and for the first time, Tommy allowed himself to hope, dream and believe.


End file.
